


A tisket, a tasket, a test in a basket

by AnnaTheHank



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: But no one remembers it, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Gen, I know they're actually in love but for this it's just friendly love, Platonic Love, Platonic Relationships, aziraphale is hope, crowley is her proctor, god is testing angels, not even him, pre-during-and post cannon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-06-15 00:12:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19598407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaTheHank/pseuds/AnnaTheHank
Summary: God is testing angles, and it's Crowley's job to administer it. Only he's not having a very good time of it at all. And every time he thinks the test is over, more just keeps coming.





	1. Curiosity Created the Snake

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!! Thanks for stopping by to read! I hope you enjoy it, I'm liking writing it a lot.  
> Feel free to read about the origination of this theory here  
> https://ineffable-human.tumblr.com/post/185880394254/idea-that-i-cant-get-out-of-my-head

Very few angels ever got to talk directly to God, even before Eden, although no one really seemed to notice. The lower level angels reported to the higher levels, which reported to the still higher levels, who went to the highliest levels and even then some of them only got as far as Metatron. To speak with God was one thing, to work with her was something quite different altogether.

Crowley had enjoyed making the stars. Had spent an entire day doing it in fact. He didn’t work with god so much as he was given loose instructions and set free to do as he pleased. That was another thing that no one seemed to think much of. Crowley thought about it a lot, actually, as he twisted and pulled apart light and dark to create the vast cosmos. For someone who supposedly has some Great Plan, God sure does seem to let things fly a lot. 

The next day Crowley was able to relax a bit, after all, creating stars and moons and galaxies was tiring work. He sat back and watched whales and dolphins get made. He heard rumors about some special project God was working on alone; something She called a Kraken that would sleep at the bottom of the sea. Crowley didn’t see what all the big fuss was about a creature that would just sleep all the time, but everyone was buzzing with excitement that day so it was hard not to join in.

The sixth day was when things got interesting. It started out with a peculiar word. A name. One that Crowley hasn’t heard since the fall, one that he has since forgotten.

“Raphael.” It was a voice familiar but far too often unheard. 

Crowley had been helping in the creation of plants, working in a section of Eden he had been assigned to. Sin hadn’t been invented yet, but if it had been, all the other angels would have been jealous of how lovely he got his plants to grow. If asked, he would have smiled and said that the secret ingredient was love.

But then there was a light on his back, a sensation of warmth on his skin, and Crowley turned around, blinking up into the light. 

“Y-yes?” he said, worried he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, making plants that God didn’t want about.

“We must speak,” the voice said. 

Crowley nodded and he was gone, returned to heaven, to somewhere or someplace beyond it, perhaps. 

Only 3 other angels have ever physically met God up to this point. And, as Crowley would as well, they all immediately forgot anything about her physical being upon returning. 

“I’m making something new, Raphael,” God said. She was looking down, watching more of the garden grow under her angels’ work. “A new species.”

“Something like dolphins?” Crowley asked. He had been particularly fond of those little swimmers. 

“No,” God said. “Something bigger. Something...challenging.”

For a moment, Crowley wondered if he was imagining things. He had been known to do that from time to time, but everyone he mentioned it to told him he had just been imagining imagining things. Which didn’t make a whole lot of sense in his book but he wasn’t going to think about it too much.

“Surely nothing can be challenging for you,” he said.

He was pretty sure, if he dwelled on the memory long enough, he could remember a smile.

“Not for me,” God said. “For you. For them.” She nodded down at the floor. Crowley looked down as if he too could see through it to the earth.

“The angels?”

“They need to be tested.”

“I...why are you telling me this?”

God turned to him but her face is nothing in his mind. “You will be the one to administer this test,” she announced.

“Me?”

“Yes, Raphael. You.”

Crowley gulped. “H-how?”

And once more Crowley was given loose instructions and released to set about fulfilling them. There was only one phrase given to him as his orders. 

Tempt them.

These creations, humans as it turned out, were made and for a while the days in Eden and in Heaven were peaceful. For everyone except Crowley. He sulked about, shirking his other duties (although, surprisingly enough, no one seemed to notice) and mulling over how to go about his new job. 

Then the opportunity arose. He had been sitting by an uneaten plate of food, lamenting his current task, when in walked Lucifer, light of the garden, and his friends. Crowley took a deep, shuddering breath, and knew it was now or never.

Satan may have invented sin, but it was Crowley who invented temptation.

“Raphael,” Lucifer said, gesturing over to him as he approached. “What a welcome surprise. No one’s seen you in Eden for days.”

Crowley nodded, sitting down with the group. He watched how the other angels watched Lucifer, like he was the sun and they would all orbit around him. That was, he thought, something he could work with.

“How are the humans?” Crowley asked, already figuring out a plan of attack.

“Wonderful,” Lucifer said. “Simply wonderful.”

“And you enjoy it?” Crowley asked, already feeling a hint of bile somewhere deep inside him. “These humans being...well, God’s greatest creation.”

The seed had been planted, and Crowley could see it. He could see it in the way that Lucifer’s eyes looked at him. He could see it in the tight smile the other angel gave him.

“Of course.”

And there it was. The first lie. The first fallacy of heaven. The start of pride. The start of sin. And over the next few days, that seed grew and grew, until it was a fully formed idea in Lucifer’s mind.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Crowley overheard Lucifer saying one day to his crowd of followers. “I mean, we’re obviously so much better than them...well, I am anyway. They should worship me. In fact, yes, I think I shall. I shall go down to Eden and live there as their king.”

“Leave heaven?” one of his followers asked. “Like, for good?”

“Why not?” Lucifer asked. “Here I am but one of many followers, a minion to God’s plan. Down there I would be the god.”

Crowley felt it. Pride had been fully realized. Lucifer was too far gone to be saved, and it had been Crowley’s suggestion that started it all. 

He blinked and he was no longer in the hallway overhearing conversations. He was with God, and she was watching the floor. 

“You have done well,” she said. “Now it is time.”

“Time for what?”

The answer was a feeling. A feeling deep somewhere inside Crowley. A bitterly wrong feeling. Angels were leaving heaven. But it wasn’t a vacation or work trip down to Eden. It was something permanent. Something fought. Something forced.

“I...I don’t understand,” Crowley said, feeling a sense of sadness for the first time since his creation. It was something that came close to when he planned a new star or plant that didn’t come out just right, only about ten times worse.

“There is nothing for you to understand, Raphael,” God said. “You have done your job well.”

“But why? Lucifer was a good angel. He was the light of Eden. Why?”

He felt God look at him but couldn’t bring himself to look back. “You were the one who chose him, Raphael.”

“But why did anyone have to fall?” Crowley didn’t have a name for this feeling. It was only being invented now. Years later he would hear the humans call it panic, and would think, yes, that fits it well.

“They all had a choice,” God said, no longer looking at him. “No one had to do anything.”

“I-” the words ‘had to tempt them’ got caught in his throat. “I just want to know why? Why test them like this? Why to such an extreme? To prove their loyalty? It was never in question.”

“Are you doubting me, Raphael?” God asked in a way that let him know she knew the answer was yes.

“I just want to know...is this part of your plan? Will they be able to come back?”

“You shall join them,” she said.

“What?”

“You’re so curious. You should join them and ask them all your questions.”

“I...I’m sorry,” he said. There had never been need for an apology before this moment. He almost thought to beg. “I’ll return to heaven now.”

He turned to leave.

“No. You have a choice, Raphael. You can go willingly to Hell now, or you can return to Heaven and be cast out like the rest.”

If anyone had begged before, Crowley might have begged there and then. But no one had, and he didn’t. 

“I don’t understand,” he said, his voice soft.

“Then you never will.”

In a blink, God was gone and Crowley was left with a choice. There were friends he wanted to say goodbye to, people he wanted to see one last time before he was sent away. But he didn’t want that terrible feeling to be directed at him. So instead he turned away, and sauntered vaguely downward into Hell.


	2. The Fall of Eden

Crowley opened his eyes and his head hurt. It was a disorienting feeling, as Crowley had never felt pain of any sort before. He was on his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath as he adjusted to the smell of sulfur around him.

“A late comer, eh?” someone asked him.

Crowley looked up, squinting his eyes at the person who stood above him. They were holding a clipboard, and looking down at him with what looked like silver paint all over their face. Crowley blinked at them, trying to place why they looked so familiar.

“Name?” they asked.

Crowley opened his mouth but nothing came out. He furrowed his eyebrows, mouth snapping closed. Surely he had a name, didn’t he? He must have. He was an angel, a right important one to have been talking to God, he figured. But no amount of searching his memories could produce what it was.

“Forgot, huh?” They sighed and pulled Crowley to his feet. “Happens to everyone.” They held their hand out. “Dagon.”

“Uh, hi.” Crowley shook it and looked around. It was what he expected this sort of place to look like. But all around him others were working, putting up walls and building buildings. 

“Ah, snake I see,” Dagon said, tilting their head to look at the side of Crowley’s face. 

“What?” Crowley asked. He touched the side of his face, felt something there but couldn’t tell what it was. 

“Crawley, then,” Dagon said, writing something down on their clipboard. 

“Crawley?” Crowley asked, face scrunching up. Wasn’t much of a name, let alone a good one. He racked his brain, trying desperately to remember what his real name was. 

“Go and see Lord Beelzebub,” Dagon said, waving about in the direction of one of the groups of people putting up a building.

“Who?” Crowley asked. He looked back at Dagon but the other demon was gone. Crowley stood about for a bit, hands hanging on his hips. He sighed and started slinking away towards the group he had been directed to.

He passed others, a hustle and bustle around him as fallen angels went this way and that. He felt twinges of recognition with each of them but couldn’t place any names or really recall any faces. He wondered if they all had the same reaction upon seeing him. He touched the side of his face gingerly, wondering what Dagon had been saying about a snake.

It was easy, upon approaching the group, to see which demon was the one known as Lord Beelzebub. They were pointing about, ordering people this way and that. Helped that they were wearing a big gaudy sash about their chest as well.

“L-lord Beelzebub?” Crowley asked, finding the words tasted awful in his mouth. 

“Yes, yes, what is it now?” Beelzebub turned around, eyeing Crowley up.

“I, uh,” he glanced back to where Dagon had been, wondering if it had been another bit of his imagination playing up. “I was told to see you?”

Beezlebub folded their arms, giving him a hard stare. “Name?”

He really didn’t want to say it. But he had no other to speak of. “Crawley,” he said, grimacing a bit as he did.

“Right, well, get to work.” Beelzebub pointed to the group of demons that were trying to lift a wall into place.

“Uh, what exactly are we building?” Crowley watched as the demons hurried away, the wall falling back down to the ground.

“A headquarters for operation,” Beelzebub said.

“What kinds of operation?” Crowley asked. His eyes bounced around the space. What were they going to get up to in here?

“Demon operations of course.” 

The name struck Crowley to the bone. It was a new word, one that hadn’t been invented before then. It made him shiver and frown. 

Crowley asked no more questions, remembering what happened the last time he did. He simply put his head down and helped build. He still wasn’t sure what they were building but after a few years of it, it wasn’t anything he wanted to stay in.

During his time down there Crowley realized a few things. Mostly he noticed how Lucifer had taken his desire to be a god a bit too much. In that no one got to see or talk to him and his orders of what were to be done were loose and vague. Most of the decisions fell to Beelzebub and their chosen leaders. 

Crowley was not chosen to be a leader. He figured it was because he never talked. He had done a lot of talking in heaven. He quite liked talking and connecting with the other angels. But whenever he opened his mouth he felt the hundreds of questions building in his chest start to pour out. So he kept his mouth closed and his head down.

Some time had passed and all the demons gathered about in the cramped hallway they had built. It wasn’t very comfortable and Crowley squirmed against the other bodies pushed together. 

“It’s about time,” Beelzebub said, their chest puffing out a bit as they stood on a desk before the others, “we made a bit of noise.”

The demons around Crowley erupted in a loud cheer.

“We need someone,” Dagon said, standing next to Beelzebub and shouting over the crowd. “A volunteer to go up there and make some trouble!”

Crowley’s hand shot up so fast that the demons around him were stunned. A bit of silence settled as everyone looked at him.

“Very commendable, uh, what was your name again?” Beelzebub asked.

His voice was cracky and weird after not being used for so long. “Crawley.”

“Right then, Crawley.” Beelzebub and Dagon shared a look and nodded. “Get up there and ruffle some feathers. Do what you can to make their life hell.”

Some demons chuckled but Crawley just nodded and went about it. He was too excited. He was finally going back. Not to heaven but at least to Eden. He could be among his plants and look up at his stars. He could try to talk to some angels, maybe, figure out who he was. He had no plans to ruffle any feather or make any trouble. He just wanted to get away from that place.

The ground was hard and forcing his way through it was an unpleasant experience. Crowley didn’t feel right. He knew he was different. And he knew what Dagon and everyone had meant. He had a vague idea of what was on the side of his face because the process of breaking through the ground had turned him into a large black snake.

Crowley was just about to figure out how to switch back when a pair of angels walked past. He slithered into the bushes, fearing an instant smiting if they saw him. They passed by, laughing, and there was an ache in Crowley’s heart. 

He slithered back out and looked around, making sure the coast was clear before he changed. That was when he spotted an odd sight. It was the tree of knowledge. Unguarded. Crowley scanned the area. There was an angel off to the side who was clearly supposed to be guarding the tree. However, his sword, flamining like anything, was laying on the ground and he was plucking some vegetables out of the garden, smiling at them fondly before tasting them. 

Crowley tilted his head and studied him. He didn’t recognize the angel. He wasn’t sure if that was the same reason he couldn't recognize the demons or if because this was a new angel, presumably made to fill the voice of the fallen. Either way, this presented Crowley with an opportunity.

Really, he hadn’t meant to make trouble. But there was something nagging at the back of his head telling him how interesting it would be if he got the humans to taste the fruit. Really, it would be quite rebellious, he thought. After all, God had put him down there. And humans were God’s greatest creations. And, really, how funny if God’s precious humans were to be no better than a bunch of demons. 

The idea refused to leave Crowley’s mind and he knew he had to act fast, before the angel by the tree got wise. He slithered about, finding it was more in style to do it as a snake. He found Eve first, tending to some of his favorite plants. 

He hesitated. She had such a tender touch to them, making sure their leaves weren’t tangled, or growing spots. And she smiled tenderly at them as she worked. For a moment Crowley questioned his plan. But then his mind started to wonder. What would Eve say if she knew that the angel who had made those plants was cast out of heaven for simply asking questions? She’d probably shrug it off, saying something about how it was all God’s plan. Bile returned to Crowley’s stomach and he slithered on.

He was really quite proud of it. Pride was the first sin and it was what Crowley relished in the most. “Just a bite,” was what he had said. “Go on, eat it. What harm could come? See? It’s not even being guarded. God wants you to eat it.”

Eve had eaten it all up and then she had eaten the apple. Adam, too. Crowley felt immensely proud of his work. It was demon work, but it wasn’t really evil work, as far as he figured it. And he also figured that taking pride in a job well done wasn’t all that bad either. He had, after all, been proud of his stars and his plants, only it was a positive pride. He was sure that existed. 

Still a snake, Crowley curled up near the tree, watching the whole show go down. God’s precious humans were cast out of Eden, just as he had been cast out of Heaven. He wondered if God knew it was him who had ruined her little Eden. Part of him wanted her to acknowledge him. Another part feared something more permanent than being cast out would happen to him. God gave no hint that she knew. 

Up on the wall Crowley spotted the angel who had been supposed to be guarding the tree. He smirked inwardly and figured, well, while I’m up here, why not make some more trouble?


	3. The Agreement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried fitting all 6,000 years into this one chapter but it's already getting so long lol.  
> So part one!

Really, honestly, Crowley had planned to be a bit of a dick. He wanted to goad the angel, boast about how well he had tempted the humans, joke about how the angel had been too distracted by vegetables to do his job. But then the angel, Aziraphale, had given away his sword. To the humans. For their safety.

And Crowley didn’t really know what to think of that.

He was still trying to think over it as the angel shielded him from the rain. Crowley felt a strange mix of dread and giddiness. On the one hand, this angel was most certainly going to be cast out, as soon as someone up there figured out what he had done. However, that did mean that Crowley would get to spend some more time hanging out with this strange being. 

The rain settled and Crowley and Aziraphale shared a smile before Crowley returned to Hell, eagerly awaiting his arrival. Only Aziraphale never showed up. Crowley skulked around for a few days, thinking that maybe things were still dying down up there after the incident, and it would take a while for someone to notice. Weeks passed. Then months. And the angel still never fell. Crowley just had to know what was going on up there.

“Lord Beelzebub,” he said, finding them overseeing the creation of an extension to the building of operation. “I was thinking, it might be a good idea if I were to go back up there.”

“What’s that now?” Beelzebub asked, not sparing him a glance.

“Well, humans have free will now, right? So they’ll need some help. Uh, choosing the wrong choices that is.” 

Crowley gave them his best smile, a bit forced but hopefully still convincing. Beelzebub looked him up and down. 

“What was your name again?”

“C-It’s Crawley,” Crowley said. Honestly. Everyone had been so ecstatic to hear his news when he returned, had practically thrown him a party for his deeds. How could Beelzebub forget him so soon?

“Ah, yes. Well.” Beelzebub took a break from their conversation to shout some instructions at the demons working nearby. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to keep them on their toes, eh? Go on then. I expect a full report by the end of the month.”

Crowley nodded and raced off. He once again turned into a snake, startling the group of squirrels that he emerged next to. Changing back into his human form was strange and painful. It had been easy to transfer from angel to human, but this was different, wrong. He figured, the less time he had to spend in the snake body the better. 

He wandered about, finding Adam and his family, but not finding Aziraphale. He frowned. Of course, the angel was probably in heaven. For a while, Crowley sat there thinking that maybe God had invented some new way of punishing troublesome angels. Maybe she had simply destroyed him.

Then Crowley heard a familiar voice and looked up to see Aziraphale standing next to Eve, smiling at the baby she carried in her arms. He thought about walking over, saying hi. He took a step forward then stopped. 

Aziraphale was still an angel.

A bubble of rage formed in Crowley’s stomach. How could an angel who ignored his duties and gave away his sword still be allowed in heaven when Crowley had been cast out simply for asking questions? In the moment, he hated Aziraphale. 

Crowley watched Aziraphale watch the baby and figured, fine. You like that baby so much? Let’s just see how much you like him once I get a hold of him. Let the games begin, angel.

-

Crowley thought that Cain took it a bit too far. Sure, he had wanted the brothers to fight, had wanted to disturb the peace that Aziraphale was enjoying way too much. But killing had been too much. Of course, he got a little commendation from hell on a job well done but all he had done was stir up an argument. Not like he told the guy to go kill his brother. 

Humanity was a bit of a mess after that and Crowley really couldn’t be bothered to stick around. He had enjoyed Aziraphale’s face of shock when he had learned of what happened, sure, but the aftermath of it all was too much to bear. Crowley was...had been an angel. And for all the hatred and despair he held towards God, he still deep down loved humanity. 

He laid low for a while after that. He didn’t really go out of his way to start anything. He did whatever odd job here and there that Hell asked of him, but that was about it. Humans, as he was starting to learn, really didn’t need any help in making the wrong choices.

They got progressively worse and worse as time went on, until God decided that a bit of purging would do them good. Crowley really couldn’t blame her. Even he had to admit that humans were getting out of hand. But he wouldn’t have gone so far as to kill the kids. After all, they were young, they still had time to learn. It was probably a good thing he wasn’t an angel when that went down because he probably would have gotten kicked out all over again for saying something about it.

He had seen Aziraphale in the crowd and couldn’t resist the urge. Once again he had gone up to the angel with all pretenses of actively antagonizing him. 

“Oh what’s this all about?” he had asked, fully expecting a quick response about God’s plan yada yada yada. 

Words of similar stock came out of Aziraphale’s mouth, but his mannerisms betrayed him. He tried to throw off the bad taste of the whole affair with the concept of the rainbow. But Crowley could recognize it. Aziraphale was doubting. It was the same doubt that had led him to give away his sword. It was the same doubt that had gotten Crowley kicked out. 

He frowned, leaving the angel alone as the rain started to fall. Aziraphale probably never said anything was the thing. Had Crowley just kept his damn mouth shut he’d still be fine. But no, he had to go and wonder about things out loud. He had hated Aziraphale. Now he just appreciated his smarts in not getting himself found out. As long as that angel kept spouting the good word of heaven, he’d be fine.

-

As far as Hell was concerned, Crowley had been an upstanding demon, doing all the little things that turned the humans so vile. Crowley, who hadn’t done any of those things, accepted their praise and used it as a bargaining chip to keep himself on Earth and away from the hell that was Hell. 

He had been about, minding his own business, when he had gotten a particularly juicy assignment. Well, he couldn’t very well go around saying “Hi, I’m Crawley sent here to tempt you away from your father’s holy ways wanna come rule the world?” So instead he said, “Hi, I’m Crowley wanna get out of this shit town and see something really cool?”

He had offered Jesus the whole ruling-the-world bit, but more of an afterthought than a real mission or goal. If anyone deserved to be an angel, Crowley figured it was Jesus. He wasn’t terribly surprised when Jesus turned him down. He was a pretty good tempter, but he had always secretly been hoping he’d say no. And he did. And Crowley was happy. 

Then he heard the news. God was going to let Jesus die. Not only that, it seemed. She was actively encouraging it. Something about cleansing sins from the land? Crowley had scoffed at that. If the flood wasn’t going to do it this sure wasn’t.

Aziraphale was there, of course. This time, he thought, this time I’m going to rub it in your stupid little face. 

And then he saw Jesus and remembered how good and how kind he had been. And he knew he couldn’t be mean. Not there. Not then. 

He stood next to Aziraphale and watched. The painful ache in his heart growing ever larger still.

-

Eight years. Eight years and humanity was still shit. Crowley had been demoted after his failure with Jesus. Not like Hell kept regular records of what actually constituted as a position. What it basically meant was that Crowley was given a lot more work to do and a lot less time to do it in. He slept a lot in those years. 

Then something strange had happened. Aziraphale had approached him. Had asked if he was a demon, which was a ridiculously dumb question, and had literally said the words, “let me tempt you”. 

Crowley was a mixture of strange emotions as he let Aziraphale lead him to where the oysters were. Whoever this Patronas person was, they seemed to know Aziraphale quite well, offering him a seat as soon as they were in the door and telling his best staff to drop everything and attend to them. Crowley was mildly impressed.

“Ah, here they are,” Aziraphale said, after a few moments of awkward silence as both of them tried to figure out what to say. 

A plate of steaming oysters was placed on the table between them and Crowley raised an eyebrow at them. He picked one up, holding it up to the light. He remembered when oysters had been invented. It was a younger angel who had made them. A group had gathered together to watch the little tongues stick out and had laughed. 

And now people were eating them. The whole room was eating them. Aziraphale was eating them, one held to his lips as he sighed in delight. He placed the empty shell down and looked at Crowley with furrowed eyebrows. 

“What's the matter?” he asked.

“I uh, I just don’t think I can eat something that’s been a...live…” His voice trailed off, gulping as he looked at the angel. Aziraphale had this little expression on his face. Something caught between expectation and delight. And really, how was Crowley supposed to just look that face in the eye and turn it down.

Crowley slid the oyster down in one, quick slurp, shivering as it wormed its way down his throat.

“Well?” Aziraphale asked, leaning on the table. “What do you think?”

“Slimy,” Crowley said, a bad taste left behind in his mouth. He grabbed the jug next to him and downed whatever was in it. 

“And delicious,” Aziraphale added, grabbing for another one.

Crowley leaned on the table, chin resting against his hand as he watched Aziraphale eat. The formations of an idea started to bubble in his brain. If this angel was willing to give away his sword, watch children drown, and eat living things, well, clearly he wasn't so goody goody. Maybe there was a way for Crowley to get what he wanted without running the risk of being caught by hell. Or, at least, not being caught alone.

-

He got the opportunity to present this formulated idea during the middle ages. It was an awful time, running around in the damp, fermenting evil. He didn’t even really know what the meant, per se, just that Hell told him to do it so he did.

It was a perfect idea, he thought. And really he didn’t expect the angel to oppose it so strongly. For heaven’s sake the angel had decided that eating vegetables from the garden was more important than guarding the tree of knowledge. 

But it really was the perfect plan. Crowley already got enough help in not doing his job with the humans as it was. And really, if he was being honest, this was not actually about not doing his job. It was about doing his job. His old job. 

He couldn’t be seen going about doing blessings and miracles for people. It just wouldn’t look right. He’d get much more than a demotion if they found that out. But with Aziraphale’s help he could make it work. If it was made to seem like Crowley was still around somewhere else doing his demon work, he could get away with doing angel work and not have to worry about it. He really didn’t know why the angel disagreed to it. He was sure Aziraphale would have loved the extra spare time to eat his food or read his books or do whatever it was he did in his spare time. 

As it turned out, he did. Aziraphale sought him out a few years later, both still bothered by the constant fights going on around them.

“What would it look like, exactly?” Aziraphale asked. They were standing out in the woods, both having shed their armor to help breathe. “This...agreement of yours?”

“Piqued your interest have I?” Crowley asked, smirking more to himself than to the angel. 

“I’m just...I want to make sure you’ve thought it all the way through, is all,” Aziraphale said. He was glancing about, not really looking at Crowley but not entirely keeping an eye out for dangers.

“Oh, I’ve thought about it,” Crowley said. “In great detail.”

Aziraphale shuffled about. “No,” he said, settling with a slight foot stomp. “No, we can’t.”

“Sure we can,” Crowley said. He prided himself on being a good tempter. He had tempted Lucifer into inventing sin. He could surely tempt Aziraphale into helping him out a bit here and there. “Look, tell you what. I’ll do the first one for free, hm? Where’s your next assignment?”

Aziraphale gave him a little look. “I have a blessing on Thursday.”

“Great. I’ll go do that and you sit back and relax. Eat a sandwich or something I don’t know.”

“Well, there is this play the townspeople put on I’ve been looking forward to seeing…”

“Excellent! You go enjoy your play, I’ll go do the miracle. It’s a win-win.”

Aziraphale started to say something then shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. “How is this a win for you?”

“Uh, well.” Crowley panicked a bit, feeling himself sweet. “It, uh, gets me one step closer to you agreeing.”

Aziraphale thought it over then nodded. “I suppose, well...it couldn’t hurt.”

Crowley smiled. He truly was a fantastic tempter.


	4. 6000 years of hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing to say for myself.

It worked perfectly. Crowley had spent a few years doing all the work, his way of getting Aziraphale on his side and convincing him this was a good deal. It was tiring work, but it did mean he got to see Aziraphale all the time, sniffing around for information on when he had a job. But it was worth it. Aziraphale agreed and the Arrangement was on.

They met every now and then, whenever one of them had a favor to ask, or a job needed doing. It was nice. Okay. It was better than nice. It was comfortable. Doing blessings and miracles for Aziraphale scratched that itch in the back of Crowley’s mind, that little need and urge to do good, a residual effect of his once angelic status. 

And the more time they spent together the more Crowley enjoyed Aziraphale’s company. He didn’t really like any of the demons. Would never consider any of them friends. And his memories of friends he had had in heaven were gone with his name. Humans didn’t live long enough to be considered friends. Acquaintances maybe, people to hang out with for sure. But they were gone in a blink of the eye. Aziraphale was the only one Crowley could trust would always be there. 

And always be there he was. 

As time drew on they spent less time discussing their jobs and more time just existing together. A drink here after a job’s completion. A play there since they were in the same town. Aziraphale had been the one to introduce him to that Shakespeare fellow. He was a good writer, especially his comedies. Crowley loved the upset his jokes at the upper class caused. He did love chaos, as long as it didn’t go too far. 

Crowley kept tabs on Aziraphale. It was only natural. He started dropping by to make sure everything was okay, even though he did a good job of not getting spotted, no need for Aziraphale to know. He had once held a great deal of anger for this angel, but time had worn it away to appreciation, and now even a bit of liking. 

One day Crowley had gone sneaking around to where Aziraphale was supposed to be. He wasn’t there. Crowley frowned. Aziraphale had told him he had a minor miracle to perform in Oxford the next day. So why wasn’t he here?

Panic. That same bubbling sensation of bile and fear he felt back when the fall happened. That disgusting, horrible feeling that he had been running away from all this time. Something must have happened. Heaven knew. They found out. They took Aziraphale and were doing...any number of terrible things to him. Maybe he would fall.

No. Crowley could not be the reason Aziraphale fell. 

He closed his eyes and concentrated on Aziraphale, on his soul. He was still on Earth, just had to find him...there. Paris? The Bastille? Crowley focused harder. If he concentrated enough he could see him...what the hell was he wearing? Seriously? That? In Paris? Crowley sighed. He liked Aziraphale but he sure could be an idiot sometimes. 

Worse than what he was wearing was what he was doing. Nothing. He was shackled up, listening to people die outside, and he was doing nothing. He could simply snap his fingers and he’d be fine. So why wasn’t he?

With a roll of his eyes, Crowley was there.

-

“Simply delicious,” Aziraphale said, humming in delight as he ate. Crowley shook his head. Watching Aziraphale eat was always a show. He was surprised that no one looked at him strangely as he moaned and hummed and groaned over each bite. “Aren’t you going to have some?”

Crowley looked down at his own plate. “Yeah.” He picked up his fork, took a piece of the crepe, and chewed on it. It was good, he would admit, but nothing would ever be as good as Aziraphale made it seem. “It’s good.”

Aziraphale shook his head at him. “It’s better than good. It’s amazing.” He finished off his own plate and Crowley slid his plate over. “Oh? Are you sure?” Crowley nodded and Aziraphale dug into his crepe. 

Crowley placed his chin in his hand, elbow resting on the table. “Aziraphale, can I ask you something?”

Aziraphale nodded, wiped his mouth on the corner of his napkin. “Of course.”

“Why do you suppose…” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

Aziraphale sat up in his seat. “Go on.”

Crowley frowned. “No, it’s nothing, forget it.”

Aziraphale gave him a look, but when back to eating his crepe. Crowley wanted to know why Aziraphale hadn’t fallen. It still haunted him, this question. If he could fall for asking questions, why was Aziraphale still around with his shirking of duties and indulgence in human pleasures. Had God mellowed out? He knew She wasn’t exactly, still hanging around. But had she really just let Aziraphale get away with all of this? If so, why?

Crowley hung his head. No. No more questions. His questions had gotten him kicked out of heaven, he wouldn’t let them get Aziraphale kicked. 

-

Crowley grumbled, mumbling to himself as he entered his flat. He didn’t think it was that ridiculous of a request. And to think. To think that Aziraphale really thought he would use it like that. How ridiculous. Crowley may not always like being alive, but he really didn’t want to die. 

Where was the fun in that?

He sighed and fell down on his bed. Fuck it. He didn’t want to be conscious right now.

-

Bombs. That was what woke him up. Bombs nearby. He groaned. A war? Really? 

Crowley sat up and rubbed at his eyes. There was a heavy layer of dust around his room. He scratched at his head. He hadn’t meant to be asleep that long. Thankfully his unconscious energy worked to keep him unbothered in the flat. 

He stretched and cracked his joints. Strange. He would have thought for sure Hell would have bothered him with a job to do at some point. There were two explanations. Either humanity was doing a good enough job as it was making their own trouble, or Aziraphale had been taking on the Arrangement single handedly, as Crowley had done in the beginning. He figured, if there was a war on, must be the first option.

But, speaking of Aziraphale...Crowley closed his eyes, still a little sleep-dizzy, and focused. The fool had gotten himself arrested in Paris. For food. What kind of trouble was he getting up to in this?

A church. Great. He was in a church. And...okay wow, he looked different. Good, but different. And he was talking to some (quick miracle of knowledge) Nazis. Seemed to have everything under control...and there’s a gun pointed at him. Crowley sighed and slapped himself awake. 

It would take a hell full of miracles to stop this fiasco (including a mass hallucination memory for the Nazi’s to recognize him and take the time to talk). But it didn’t matter. He had an angel to save.

-

“Thank you for the ride,” Aziraphale said. They were outside of his bookshop, but Aziraphale hadn’t moved. He sat in his seat, clutching his bag of books in his lap.

“Anytime,” Crowley said. “Glad I could be of assistance.”

Aziraphale swallowed hard and looked at his shop, then back at Crowley. “My nerves are still abuzz,” he said. “I could use a drink.”

Crowley looked over at him. “Yeah? What around here’s got good stuff?”

Aziraphale smiled, dare he say, sheepishly. “Well, I actually have some rather lovely wine in the shop. I couldn’t possibly drink a whole bottle on my own.” He gave Crowley a knowing look. 

This was new. They had always gone somewhere. Had hung out in public. Which, considering how much they didn’t want to get found out, was probably a bad idea. They had never been together in private. He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. I-I could go for a drink.”

Aziraphale’s smile turned bright. He got out of the car and headed for the shop. Crowley gripped the steering wheel tight. What was this feeling in his chest? This strange pressure. It was like panic. But it didn’t leave a bad taste in his mouth. It just kind of was.

He got out and followed Aziraphale. He needed a drink.

-

Okay. Deep breath. Think of the positive. He had a thermos of holy water in his hand. He didn’t have to go through with that half-baked robbery idea. That weird witchfinder guy seemed like a good contact to make. Good things. All good things.

“I go too fast?”

Aziraphale had left the car a long time ago. Crowley hadn’t moved. 

“What the fuck does that mean? We’ve known each other six thousand years and suddenly a ride home is too fast?”

Crowley growled and gently placed the thermos where Aziraphale had been sitting. He drove away. At the speed limit. 

“I don’t go too fast!” He slammed his hand on the wheel. “I spent at least three hours planning that caper! How is that too fast? I haven’t done anything too fast in my whole life.”

The thermos looked at him, judging. 

“I don’t!” he told it.

He grumbled and mumbled his whole way home. He moved the thermos into a safe, for keeping, until he needed it. If. He reminded himself. If he needed it, of course. They just had to be careful and he would have no need. But still, better safe than sorry. 

He wandered his way to his office. His answering machine was blinking. He had 17 missed calls, but apparently no messages. He raised an eyebrow at it, head tilted. It rang. 

“Hello?”

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked. “Oh! Oh good you’re there.”

“Yeah, I’m here.” He glanced down at the machine. “Are these your seventeen calls?”

A nervous chuckle. “W-well, I’ve just been trying to get a hold of you. Is all.”

“You saw me like, an hour ago. What happened since then that was so important you needed to call seventeen times?”

Aziraphale stuttered about a bit. It wasn’t like him. He lied, sure, but it usually came to him quickly. Crowley sighed.

“Aziraphale, I told you. It’s not for that.”

Aziraphale gulped, audible over the line. “I know you said that. I just had to be sure.”

“Why?”

“Well...because...I have plans Friday. And I’d hate to have to go to Ireland as you said you would.”

Crowley smirked. There was that quick witted lie he was used to. He closed his eyes. 

“I’ll go to Ireland,” he said. I’d miss you, too, he meant.


End file.
